


Turbo

by VioletSmith



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Elevator Sex, Hand Jobs, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Marks, Military Ranks, Possessive Sex, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Turbolift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletSmith/pseuds/VioletSmith
Summary: Kirk is chronically incapable of keeping his hands to his damn self.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Comments: 18
Kudos: 284





	Turbo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NB_Cecil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/gifts), [orchidlocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidlocked/gifts).



Kirk is chronically incapable of keeping his hands to his damn self. He knows this. Bones knows this. So, really, he tells himself he shouldn’t be surprised that Kirk’s shoving his greedy paws down his pants the second the turbolift doors close.

It’s not the first time he’s done it. It’s not even the first time he’s done it in a turbolift, McCoy recalls with some resignation, as he allows himself to be manhandled back against the wall, his hands swatted away, his pants shoved down just enough for Kirk to get a nice handful of him.

“Captain,” McCoy dawls, a little winded, because he knows it both flatters and irritates Jim to be called that when they’re… doing this.

“Doctor,” Jim shoots back, and mouths at Bone’s throat until his knees are going weak.

“Don’t you think this is a little-”

“No time for chatter, Bones,” he says, all carefree charm, like what he’s doing isn’t ten different kinds of unacceptably unprofessional. “Gotta be quick.”

“What-”

He takes McCoy’s hand and places it on the handgrip. “Engineering.” The lift buzzes into motion.

“Jim!”

“It’s the furthest location on the ship, but it still won’t give you long.”

“Me?!”

“I said hush,” Jim tells him, though he in fact said no such thing. McCoy’s going to tell him that, too, he is – but then Jim’s mouth is on his, hard and demanding, and his hand is jerking at McCoy’s dick much too rough, just the way he likes it and god damn him, he knows McCoy too well.

Bones swears into his mouth and his hands come up to sink into Kirk’s golden hair. Without his hand on the grip the turbolift whines to a juddery stop. Bones couldn’t give a fermented fuck about the turbolift, but clearly his _captain_ has other ideas. Kirk pulls back a little, and shoves a knee between Bones’s thighs to keep them parted and stuck there, like a bookmark. Bones can’t stop himself from rutting against that thick leg, just a little.

“Ah, ah,” Kirk tuts at him, and grasps one of the doctor’s wrists in a firm, strong hand. He lowers that hand back to the handgrip of the lift, and it shudders back to life and resumes its onward journey.

Bones scowls. “If you think I’m gonna let some unsuspecting ensign catch us in here like-”

Kirk laughs, and McCoy swears he can taste it. “No one’s going to catch us, Bones. You worry too much.”

“Somebody has to,” he grumbles, but then Kirk’s digging his thumbs into McCoy’s hips hard enough that power of speech temporarily deserts him. He drags McCoy into just the right place, just the right _angle_ , so that Bones’s grinding helplessly against him with his head thrown back against the lift wall.

It’s a big ship, but realistically there can only be moments until the door opens.

“Come on, Bones,” Kirk croons. “You can do it.”

McCoy shakes his head in wordless protest, but he can already feel it building, heavy and sweet in his balls.

“Captain,” he pants, and the breathlessness is real this time. “Jim.”

“Faster, Bones, for me, come on, do it.”

“Can’t,” he gasps.

“Sure you can,” Jim breathes, gathering McCoy’s cock up again in one of those big, hot hands.

He squeezes it, and McCoy’s sure he’s about to start jerking him again and finish him off, he’s waiting for it, pushing his hips forward shamelessly, trying to fuck the warm fist Jim’s made around him, but Jim pauses. And when McCoy drags his head forward off the wall and gets a proper look at him, he sees Jim’s staring down at McCoy’s dick in fascination. Which, alright, could be considered flattering. Except for how Kirk’s already well acquainted with his junk, and has never looked at it quite like this before. It makes McCoy feel… self conscious.

Kirk reaches round to clap a hand onto one of the turbolift handles. “This is Captain James T. Kirk, authorisation oh-seven-two-four-theta-nine. Emergency stop and lock.”

The lift judders to a halt and the lights dim ever so slightly. It’s threatening. McCoy almost stumbles in the solid vee of Kirk’s arms.

“Is this… lipstick?”

Kirk swipes a thumb through the pink smudge right there near the base of McCoy’s cock.

McCoy blinks a few times. “Uh.”

“I asked you a question, Doctor.”

McCoy licks his lips nervously. “What do you think, Jim?”

“I think there’s only one man on board the Enterprise with a mouth this pink.”

McCoy closes his eyes. Can’t help the little, deep sound that escapes him at that phrase, at the memory it evokes in him. The man in question on his knees, taking McCoy down, all the way down into that wicked throat, between those heavily painted, pretty lips.

“Spock,” he moans, and he doesn’t know if it’s an answer to Jim’s question or if he’s just unable to stop himself saying it. Kirk’s hand tightens instantly, almost painfully, around McCoy’s cock.

And, damn it, they’ve been fooling around together since they were practically kids, he and Jim. It doesn’t mean anything, and at the same time it means everything, but either way they’ve never been what you’d call exclusive. The concept alone seems unfamiliar to James T Kirk, and that’s always suited McCoy fine. But still, he knows Jim has a possessive streak a mile wide, in the right circumstances. And maybe another man’s lipstick on McCoy’s dick is enough to trigger it.

A part of McCoy hopes so. Kirk is a force of nature, and he likes to _feel_ it. It’s heady, like a drug, being the focus of all that intense personality.

“What are you gonna do about it?” he goads, just for good measure. “Captain.”

Kirk growls. It’s a good sound. When he starts jerking Bones off again it’s still with that too-tight, painful grip. Bones whines and writhes, like he can’t decide it he wants to fight it or press closer.

He licks a deliberate stripe up Bones’s neck, then touches his mouth to his ear.

“Tell me what it’s like,” he says, all hot and breathy.

McCoy can barely get the words out to respond. “Wh- what?”

“Spock’s mouth,” he grinds out, like the words are made of gravel. “Tell me.”

Oh. _Oh_. The tiny part of McCoy’s brain that’s still capable of rational thought finds this very _interesting_.

“Are you jealous, Captain?”

Kirk growls again, closes his hand even tighter, and McCoy cries out. Kirk holds the hot weight of his balls in his other hand, squeezes gently as if he’s testing something. McCoy’s going to fall apart, any moment.

“His mouth feels… oh damn. Feels like sin. So hot and sweet, damn, so beautiful, like he can’t get enough, like he’s been saving up every ounce of longing he never felt and keeping it safe for this-”

Somehow the turbolift has started moving again. Bones isn’t even sure when it happened. Kirk must have started it up again, or maybe someone else overrode it from outside somehow, someone thinking they’re in trouble in here.

“C’mon Bones,” Jim cajoles him. “Give it up.”

And that’s enough, right there, Kirk’s tight hand and his heated voice and his big, strong body caging Bones in against the wall and he’s coming, god, he’s coming in the captain’s cupped hands right here in the fucking turbolift, Jim crooning in his ear about what a _good boy_ he is.

“Who you calling boy,” Bones grumbles after, as he’s catching his breath. “’m old enough to be your damn father.” It isn’t quite true, but it’s close enough.

There’s a muted tone as the lift comes to a stop, and a mad scramble to tug uniforms into place. Jesus, Bones is getting too old for this.

And then the door is sliding open, and a face is peering in. A familiar, albeit slightly puzzled face, whose gaze sweeps the entirety of the lift as if searching for something that isn't there. Behind, the hustle and bustle of Engineering continues unabated.

“Captain?”

“Ah,” says Kirk, standing up a little straighter. “Mister Spock. Excellent timing, I was just on my way to see you.”


End file.
